


Incubators

by ButterflyGhost



Series: Fifty Shades of Ray [4]
Category: due South
Genre: F/F, Pregnancy, characters aware of fanfic, crackfic, what the hell was the author thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 08:41:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4558098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyGhost/pseuds/ButterflyGhost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frannie and Elaine walk into a bar...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incubators

 

Frannie and Elaine walked into a bar. The Barman served them some Virgin Marys.

 

“I want a proper drink,” Frannie whined, because that's what women do in fanfic. “The time I’ve been having in these fics lately – you think I could get a proper drink. My brother comes here with Ray and Benton, they get all the drinks and the fun and sexy high jinks... I get a Virgin Mary. Why is that?”

 

“I think the Barman is sexist,” said Elaine. “Or Ray and Ray and Fraser drank the place dry.”

 

“Or the Author forgot to stock up between fics.” Frannie rolled her eyes. “I mean, she’s not very good at the little details. This Barman doesn’t even have a face.”

 

“You know,” Elaine mused, “I hadn’t noticed, but now you say it – that _is_ weird.”

 

The Barman’s blank bubble head grew features, and he looked mournful. “There is no need to be rude,” he pointed out mournfully. (The Author thinks he should be mournful, but she is not sure why. He doesn't have a backstory. Sounds good though, so she’s sticking with it.) “Besides, you know I can’t serve you drinks. You’re both pregnant.”

 

Frannie and Elaine looked at each other, appalled. They were indeed pregnant. Massively so. All of a sudden they couldn’t even reach the bar, their bellies were so rotund.

 

“What? Again?” Frannie shrieked. (Because that’s what women do in fanfic. And at least this time she has a good reason.)  “I only had the triplets last week! And I didn’t even get to have sex!” She jerked a thumb at Elaine. “Not even with _her!”_

 

“What do you mean ‘not even with her’? I didn’t hear you complaining in the hot babes with handcuffs fanfic we were in last week.”

 

“That’s because you gagged me.”

 

“Well, somebody has to, you never shut up.”

 

Frannie took a deep breath to launch into a tirade of obscenity. “Oh no you don’t,” Elaine pointed her finger right in Frannie's face and wagged it. Her finger, not Frannie's face. “Don’t you dare go all Italian on me with the Santa Marias and the Madre de Dioses, and whatever else the author can find on google translate. And besides, what have _you_ got to complain about?” Elaine folded her arms across her straining blouse. The buttons were in danger of popping off and flying across the room. Fortunately for her continued dignity this wasn't a 'suddenly naked, let's have embarrassing sex in public' fic. “You should be used to being pregnant by now. That’s your big role in fanfic – brood mare. I’m the bad-ass police woman, you’re the walking womb. The only times I get pregnant someone shoots me in the stomach and I end up having my guts scooped out with a rusty spoon.”

 

“That never happened!”

 

“It was in her first draft! Thank God her beta told her to get a grip.”

 

“Hang on, is this that one where Ray and Fraser are on the outs and –”

 

“Frannie, do _not_ talk about Ray and Fraser. No Rays, no Fraser – not even Dief. Can’t we ever, just once, have a conversation about something or someone who doesn’t have a penis?”

 

“Why would we want to do that?”

 

“Because there’s a sociologist sitting in the corner taking notes to see if we pass the Beschdel test.”

 

“The what now? You just made that up!”

 

“I did not!”

 

“Yes you did. And you’re missing the point.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“We came in for a drink, and THIS happened.” Frannie gestured at their bumps, outraged. “I mean, seriously, my stomach is one big stretch mark. My stretch marks have stretch marks! My boobs are bigger than my head! And now I can’t even get a drink.”

 

“Yes, ladies,” the Barman interrupted (the Author having just remembered that he was lurking in the background.)  “The Surgeon General warns that alcohol in pregnancy causes fetal damage and -”

 

“It’s imaginary alcohol!” Frannie yelled, not unreasonably under the circumstances. “And imaginary pregnancy! And I want an imaginary drink!”

 

“Well, you _have_ an imaginary drink.” The Barman pointed helpfully at the Virgin Marys. “See?”

 

“I want imaginary alcohol!”

 

“Me too,” added Elaine. “Lots of it. And imaginary icecream.”

 

“Oooh. Icecream. And gin and tonic. With lots of pineapples, and cheese, and jalapeno peppers...”

 

“Please, Ladies. You are obviously suffering from pregnancy cravings. Won’t you please think of the children?”

 

“See what I mean,” Elaine said, shaking her head with disgust. “We’re nothing to him but walking incubators.”

 

“Well,” the Barman said reasonably, “being an incubator _is_ the primary purpose of women in fanfic. Or you could be the love interest who loses out to the big gay romance, or the vengeful harpy who dies horribly by falling under a train and breaks the hero’s heart, even though she has destroyed his life, because that’s what women do. Or some combination of all of the above. You see? You have so many options.”

 

Frannie and Elaine stared at him, rendered speechless for a moment (because the author was getting earache, what with all the screaming and shrieking that was going on.) Finally Elaine found her voice. The Author winced as Elaine shrieked shrilly (because that’s what women do in fanfic, even if it is out of character. And besides, she had a good reason.) “Did he just call us incubators?

 

“But you _are_ incubators dears. The sooner you accept your place in the literary hierarchy the sooner you can settle down with your dear sweet sextuplets and –”

 

“Sextuplets?”

 

“Again?”

 

Frannie and Elaine stared at each other, horrified. “That’s like – a thousand children,” Frannie moaned. (Because that’s what women do in fanfic.)

 

“Twelve,” Elaine moaned back. (Because that’s what women do in fanfic. And maybe they are going into labour – the author hasn’t decided yet.)

 

“Look, my dear Incubators –” the Barman caught the look on their faces, and tried to correct himself, too late. “I mean, Ladies...”

 

Frannie’d had enough. She pulled out the Uzi which had been conveniently hidden by her massive belly and breasts, and swung it over the bar, directly into the Barman’s face (which was really there, even though the Author never got around to describing it.)

 

“Incubate this, mother fucker!” she shrieked (because that’s what women do.)

 

The Barman got them their drinks.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The Author would like to apologise for the irresponsible nature of this fic. Drinking alcohol during pregnancy - even imaginary alcohol - is not something that she condones. Nor is pulling an uzi on a bar tender. Because that's just silly.


End file.
